What are the Chances?
by Beth Green
Summary: What are the chances that if John has the flu, Rodney will catch it from him? COMPLETE.


**Title: What Are the Chances?**  
**_Author: Beth Green_**

xxxxx

Rodney McKay was a happy man. He had finally recovered enough of his  
dignity from the whole 'Cadman ruining his date with Katie Brown' debacle that he  
was able to speak to the woman without stammering incoherently. He'd managed  
to string together enough words that he'd been able to persuade Katie to give  
him another chance.

John's congestion and sore throat did not stop him from teasing his friend.  
"You groveled, McKay."

"I did not!" His chin jutted haughtily as he declared, "Katie Brown has a  
high regard for me personally."

John ignored Rodney's comment and continued, "You practically crawled to her  
on your hands and knees and begged."

Rodney pointed a finger at John. "Ha! You weren't there!"

John's reply was interrupted by a series of hacking coughs. He bent over, a  
fisted hand to his mouth, as he tried to contain the outburst.

The initial cough was strong enough that Rodney would swear he felt a few  
droplets hit his face. Concerned for his own health, Rodney jumped back and  
raised his hands defensively. "Ah! Keep your virulent virus to yourself!"

After a minute of forceful coughing, John was finally able to catch his  
breath and stop coughing. He paused to wipe the crook of his arm across his  
face, then sniffed experimentally, satisfied when no further coughs issued from  
his abused throat. He resumed the conversation, his voice a wispy shadow of  
its usual forcefulness. "I happen to know for a fact that you used up the  
last of your stash of Cadbury chocolates to buy yourself a date."

"What I do with my chocolate is my business. What you do with your  
infectious self is everyone's business."

John stifled the cough that wanted to escape as he rasped a reply. "It's  
just a cold."

Rodney stepped back from his friend, observing the pale face with the eyes  
dull green in their darkly smudged orbits. "You diagnosed yourself, didn't  
you?"

John frowned as he defended himself. "I know when I have a cold."

Rodney's eyes widened. "Oh my God, you did! You could have picked up some  
sort of strange alien virus that you've been walking around with while you  
infect everyone around you, mainly me!"

John shook his head. "We haven't been offworld in over a week."

"Which begs the question, how did you become ill? And, much more  
importantly, will I catch the plague from you?"

John purposely coughed in Rodney's direction, then replied, "I'm touched by  
your concern."

"And I'm tempted to report a medical emergency unless you report yourself to  
Carson."

Truthfully, the more John argued, the worse he felt. The coughing made his  
sore throat burn, and his chest was feeling heavy and tight. He wouldn't be  
surprised if he was running a fever. He ran a hand over his forehead, cold  
fingers swiping across a warm and aching brow. He supposed it wouldn't hurt  
to pay Carson a visit. "Fine. You win."

Rodney followed John to the infirmary, refusing to walk beside him. Instead  
he kept a noticeable five feet behind. John commented upon the fact. "A  
true friend would be walking next to me, ready to catch me if I fall."

Rodney took a hesitant step closer and asked, "Are you feeling faint?"

"No." John decided that he was a little pissed at Rodney's attitude.  
Rather like a criminal who was guilty until proven innocent, Rodney assumed the  
worst and was trying to quarantine John before they had a proper diagnosis. He  
staggered intentionally, then declared, "At least, I wasn't a minute ago."

John was pleased when Rodney moved up to walk beside him. However, Rodney's  
body language spoke of a man who was stepping in front of a firing squad.  
John again caused a slight hitch to appear in his gait. Rodney grabbed the  
closest arm and placed it across his shoulders. "Oh, come on. If it's a  
choice between using me as a human crutch or standing by to watch while you fall  
flat on your face, I suppose letting you cough all over me is the lesser of  
two evils. Besides, I've already been thoroughly exposed to whatever you've  
got."

Rodney continued conversationally, "Just so you know, if I do catch a fatal  
infection thanks to you, I'll never forgive you."

John didn't bother to point out the illogic in that statement. He was  
feeling too ill utter an appropriate reply. If Rodney developed a fatal  
infection, he'd be dead. If by some remote snowballs-chance-in-hell that were to  
happen, John would never forgive himself.  
xxxxx

Not surprisingly, Carson's examination revealed that what John had diagnosed  
as a cold was actually influenza. Carson confined John to the infirmary  
until he was over the worst of the symptoms.

The physician sighed. "You're the second person today who's come in with  
similar symptoms. Unfortunately, influenza can be infectious from the day  
before symptoms appear through approximately 5 days after the onset of illness.  
There's no telling how many people will be affected, nor the severity of the  
infection. Hopefully this virus will follow the typical course of the  
disease, in which case the worst will be over within 3 to 7 days."

John spent a miserable three days in the infirmary. By the fourth day, he  
was pronounced well enough to return to his quarters. Rodney had been  
noticeably absent during John's confinement. As if to atone for his earlier  
negligence, Rodney was the first to welcome him back to his room.

John was not quite over his illness, and was not inclined to cut Rodney any  
slack. He greeted his friend with, "So, Rodney, how have you been?" He  
spoke over Rodney's reply of, "Pretty good-" stating, "I have to ask, because I  
haven't seen you in three days. I've been sick, sick enough that I've been  
confined to the infirmary. It would've been nice if my friends had stopped by  
to see me. No, wait they did! I saw Elizabeth, and Teyla, and Ronon... but  
I didn't see you." The last word was accompanied by an accusing glare.

Rodney turned away from his friend's scolding stare. "Yes, well..." He  
turned back and declared, "I've got one shot left with Katie Brown, one more  
chance to save myself from the monastic existence I've been forced to lead since  
coming to Atlantis." He began to pace, waving his hands as he spoke. "The  
flu really, absolutely does not figure into that particular equation. Me,  
plus flu, will be minus Katie! I just need to stay healthy for one more day so  
that I can keep my date with Katie. One more day!

"I'm sorry that you feel... well, however it is that you feel, but I'm happy that you're no longer  
forced to be under Carson's medical care, no matter how excellent it may be.  
So. Welcome back."

John rolled his eyes at his friend's long-winded speech. He was feeling pretty crappy, and had no energy left to carry on any sort of conversation. John would have cheerfully tossed Rodney out of his quarters if he could've mustered the energy to do so. Instead, he coughed loudly and declared, "Okay. I'm going to bed."

Rodney did not take the hint. He continued, "The thing of it is, I'm not like you."

John ignored Rodney and began to turn down the covers of his bed while his friend rambled on.

"I don't have women falling at my feet. I have to make an effort in order to connect. When it comes to trying to pick up women, for me it's like … like masturbating with a cheese grater."

That comment got John's attention. He paused in the act of tucking himself into bed to exclaim, "What?!"

Rodney turned troubled blue eyes toward his friend and clarified, "It's not much fun and rather painful, making you wonder if the end result is really worth it."

John pulled the bedcovers over his head, muttering, "Thanks for that lovely image."

"If I cancel out on Katie again, I really don't think I'll be able to ask her out a third time."

Rodney looked hopefully toward the blanket-covered lump of John Sheppard, waiting for a reply that did not come. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he quietly left the room.

xxxxx

The next day, John got a call from Carson. "I thought you'd want to know.  
Rodney's come down with the flu. If you want to see him, he's here with me  
in the infirmary."

John thought about paying his friend back and not visiting Rodney for the  
next three days. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that  
Rodney would probably like it if he was left alone to feel sorry for himself. No,  
John figured that it would be much better to see his friend and tease him  
mercilessly. He radioed back to Carson. "I'm on my way."  
xxxx

John stood at Rodney's bedside and stared down at his miserable-looking friend,

almost feeling sorry for the man.

Rodney coughed, then declared, "You have no idea how much I hate you right  
now."

John's reply did not hide his disbelief of the implied threat to their friendship.

His lips twisted into a smirk as he replied, "Actually, I think I have  
a pretty good idea."

Rodney propped himself up higher in the bed and leaned his elbows into the  
mattress in order to bring himself physically closer to John.

The glint in his friend's fever-bright eyes reminded John of something. His  
memory replaced Rodney's face with the image of an Airman John had trained  
with in his early days with the Air Force. The Airman had gotten into a  
heated argument with their Sergeant and refused to follow orders. The more the  
Sergeant pushed, the more the Airman resisted, until the young man suddenly  
snapped. It had taken three other men to pull the enraged Airman off of his  
superior. The Sergeant's face was left a battered mess of cuts and bruises.

John took a step back from the bed when Rodney began to speak.

"I stand by my statement - _cough, cough - _that you have no idea how I feel  
right now. - _cough - _If you did, _- cough - _you wouldn't be standing close enough  
for me to get my hands around your scrawny neck and squeeze until your eyes  
pop out of your head!"

John ducked away from Rodney's outstretched, grasping hands. He hurried  
toward the door, then paused to look over his shoulder. "So, I guess this means  
your date with Katie is off."

John ducked to avoid the plastic urinal that was thrown at his head. He  
followed his military instincts and decided that his current situation called  
for a strategic withdrawal.

xxxxx

End.


End file.
